The Good Daughter (The Good Daughter #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,66

to know.” He pulled out a file and paged through it.

Charlie pushed herself up on her knees so she could look him in the eye. “It’s never happened before. Not once. Not even close.”

Ben shook his head.

“I never looked at another man when I was with you.”

He put the file back into the box and pulled out another one. “Did you come with him?”

“No,” she said, but that was a lie. “Yes, but I had to use my hand, and it was nothing. Like a sneeze.”

“A sneeze,” he repeated. “Great, now every time I sneeze, I’m going to think of you coming with fucking Batman.”

“I was lonely.”

“Lonely,” he echoed.

“What do you want me to say, Ben? I want you to make me come. I want to be with you.” She tried to touch his hand but he moved it away. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this better. Just tell me.”

“You know what I want.”

The marriage counselor again. “We don’t need some frumpy licensed social worker with a bad haircut to tell me I’m the problem. I know I’m the problem. I’m trying to fix it.”

“You asked what I wanted and I told you.”

“What’s the point of picking apart something that happened thirty years ago?” Charlie sighed, exasperated. “I know I’m angry about it, Ben. I’m fucking furious. I don’t try to hide it. I don’t pretend it didn’t happen. If I was obsessed with it and wouldn’t shut up about it, she would say something was wrong with that, too.”

“You know that’s not what she said.”

“God, Ben, what’s the point of this? Do you still even want me?”

“Of course I do.” He looked anxious, like he wanted to take back his answer. “Why can’t you understand that part doesn’t matter?”

“It matters.” She moved closer to him. “I miss you, babe. Don’t you miss me?”

He shook his head again. “Charlie, that’s not going to fix things.”

“It might fix them a little.” She stroked back his hair. “I want you, Ben.”

He kept shaking his head, but he didn’t push her away.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” Charlie moved closer. Throwing herself at him was the only thing she hadn’t tried. “Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“Stop,” he said, but didn’t stop her.

“I want you.” She kissed his neck. The way his skin reacted to her mouth made Charlie want to cry. She kissed along his jaw, up to his ear. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

Ben let out a low groan as her hands moved down his chest.

She kept kissing him, licking him. “Let me go down on you.”

He inhaled a shaky breath.

“You can have whatever you want, babe. My mouth. My hands. My ass.”

“Chuck.” His voice was hoarse. “We can’t—”

She kissed him on the lips, and kept kissing him until he finally kissed her back. His mouth was like silk. The feel of his tongue sent a rush between her legs. Every nerve in her body was on fire. His hand went to her breast. He was getting hard, but Charlie reached down to make him harder.

Ben covered his hand over hers. At first, she thought he was helping her but then she realized he was stopping her.

“Oh, God.” She backed away quickly, jumping off the bed, standing with her back to the wall, embarrassed, humiliated, frantic. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Charlie—”

“No!” She held up her hands like a traffic cop. “If you say something now, then it’ll be the end, and it can’t be the end of things, Ben. That can’t happen. It’s too much after—”

Charlie cut herself off, but her own words rang in her ears like a warning.

Ben stared at her. His throat moved as he swallowed. “After what?”

Charlie listened to the blood pounding in her ears. She felt jittery, like her toes were dangling over the edge of a bottomless chasm.

Ben’s phone played the opening bars of the COPS theme, the ringtone he’d set for the Pikeville Police Department.

Bad boys, bad boys, whatchu gonna do …

She said, “It’s work. You have to answer.”

“No, I don’t.” He tilted up his chin, waiting.

Bad boys, bad boys …

He said, “Tell me what happened today.”

“You were there when I gave my statement.”

“You ran toward the gunshots. Why? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t run toward gunshots. I ran toward Mrs. Pinkman screaming for help.”

“You mean Heller?”

“That’s exactly the kind of Oprah bullshit a therapist would say.” She had to yell to be heard over his stupid phone. “That I put myself in danger because thirty years ago, when someone